Miss Avocet's Home for Peculiar Children
by Lilith's Wings
Summary: Alma LeFay Bentham is a Ymbryne in training when she meets fellow peculiar Altair Phoenix, who has multiple powers, including a Ymbryne-like power. He's a male though, which is unheard of. Later, the two are separated by unfortunate circumstances. Will they ever meet again? Based mainly on the movie
1. Chapter 1: Caught

**Hello, and welcome to Miss Avocet's Home for Peculiar Children! I would definitely love reviewers, so let's get on with the story!**

 _July 15, 1867_

"Alma! Where are you?" the peregrine, otherwise known as Alma LeFay Bentham, could clearly hear her mentor, Miss Avocet, over the white granite wall. Her annoyed and puzzled voice resounded through the sky. She thrashed her wings wildly and cawed. The white net was weighed down with stones, and she had flown right into it. The garden around her enticed her with the promise of freedom.

Looking left and right to make sure no one was watching, she closed her eyes as her wings morphed into arms and she turned back into a 14 year old with long, curly blue-black hair. In the shadows of the wall, a boy watched her detangle the net from her body and shape-shift back into a bird, flying back into her loop.

She ran into the tall and imposing Victorian edifice, then scurried through the hallways until she bumped into Miss Avocet, knocking her over. Her mentor tumbled to the ground and hit her head, a trickle of blood working its way down her forehead.

As Alma dashed to her side, a cruel voice she knew all too well came from the staircase. "Clumsy old Alma..I wonder if you'll get kicked out for knocking the old hag unconscious. I don't mind the peace and silence, of course."

Her blood froze in her veins as Jack turned into a falcon, his arms and legs seamlessly assimilating into his body as he became a slate grey falcon with a cream streaked underbelly. He dove at her leg. Stiff with fear, she could barely move. A small whimper of fear escaped her mouth as he viciously tore at her leg.

She cried out in pain as a flap of bloody skin and muscle hung from her leg and the falcon cawed in triumph. Miss Avocet didn't stir, and Alma sighed as Jack flew out the window. He was so jealous of her; granted, it was a fact of life by now, but that didn't diffuse the ache in her heart for him.

Sometimes it surprised her how much hate he had at only 18.


	2. Chapter 2: Altair

I decided to make Myron's peculiarity the same as Fiona Frauenfeld's. Thanks to Kik, the recent reviewer, for alerting me to the unreadable text problem. I have no idea why it was like that, but this chapter is dedicated to Kik!

July 15, 1867 (in Miss Avocet's loop)

Miss Avocet had told her to stay off her wounded right leg and not to transform into a bird until it was healed. "It should be fine in time." As Alma hobbled to her mentor to put a plaster on her wound, Miss Avocet waved her away and placed it lopsidedly on her voluminous hair. She stifled a laugh and readjusted it.

She smiled a Mona Lisa smile, making her way up the stairs carefully, clutching the banister tightly. In the shadows of the wall, a diminutive brown haired boy tucked his knees closer to his chest and watched his sister make her way up the stairs. He sighed unhappily, but it could not be helped; Jack had told him to, and at such a young age, he already knew, what Jack wanted, Jack got. With a wave of his hand, a bunch of frilly yarrow plants and English ivy vines enrobed the banister with a thick coat of greenery.

Alma grasped the banister unwittingly, but when the ivy vines began to wrap around her arms and then her turquoise dress, she tried desperately to rip them off. In a matter of seconds, she was trapped in a small and rather cramped cage made of vines.

Myron. She gritted her teeth and glared at him. He shrugged and mouthed the words, I'm sorry, as he strolled off. She rolled her eyes and began ripping at the verdant vegetation. About half an hour later, she was free.

Mercifully, when Alma finally reached her room, Jack wasn't in there. She opened a drawer and took out a small crimson book edged with gilt. Lifting a cushion from her bed, she revealed a small steel pen and an inkpot. Uncapping the inkpot, she dipped the pen in the sooty darkness and wrote, July 15, as she had been doing for seven years of her life.

I can't fly out of the loop until my leg is healed (though technically I can walk out) and it's such a pity because the farm I "visited" yesterday seems full of charming amusements. I did get caught in a net, so maybe not so charming. I feel sorry for Jack sometimes; everyone back home ignored him in favor of Myron and I, which doesn't seem very fair. When I become a Ymbryne I'll never let that happen to any of my children.

Wiping the rest of her ink on a piece of thick vellum blotting paper, she put her steel pen and the book away into the drawer.

Right before she walked out the walnut door of the old Victorian, a small white and black bird landed on her head. Uttering a surprisingly loud "Kleet!" it flew off her head and transformed into a cross Miss Avocet.

"Where do you think you're going? You still need to make up for yesterday and today's lesson!" Alma blushed a deep dragonfruit magenta, and tucked a strand of loose blue-black hair behind her ear nervously.

They walked into an adjoining room, where Olivia and Isla, two other Ymbrynes, were practicing transforming into birds. Isla, a beautiful pied raven, cawed shrilly and harshly, the sound ringing in Alma's sensitive peregrine ears. Olivia the owl hooted loudly. With two practicing Ymbrynes, a cacophony of sounds rang through the halls.

"All right, Alma. We were going to learn how to make loops yesterday, but cough because you were late, we used lesson time to bandage ourselves. I haven't the foggiest idea how you managed to get your leg in a state like that, but we will attempt to make the best of it," she said crisply.

She nodded her head in assent and their lesson proceeded. An hour later, she hobbled out of the Victorian and breathed in the fresh, grassy aroma of the garden. Stepping out of the loop, she was in the walled garden.

The boy stepped out from behind the wall and said, "So, what are you? How can you do that?" His voice was tinged with curiosity and a little jealousy. "Wh..What? I don't know what you're talking about!" she stammered. Had he seen her last time?

"You know. The bird-shifting thing. I know you know what I'm talking about." Alma backed away, preparing to flee. He watched her warily with celery-green eyes fringed with black eyelashes. "I can do it too, you know." "H..Ho...How? Only Ymb...females can do that."

"I can do more than that." He scoffed at her horrified face, hefting his hand, and a glowing fire lit itself, merrily crackling away on his hand. Then he transformed into a bird. A phoenix, to be exact. He cawed, then turned back into a human as he lazily threw seeds on the verdant grass. Plants sprouted from the earth, growing tall and sturdy in a couple of seconds.

Alma backed away, then ran back into the loop.


	3. Chapter 3: Jack and Alma

**The loop part might not be entirely accurate. Some characters may be out-of-character. I apologize for any mistakes I may have made; please send me a PM if you notice any mistakes, and thanks to Gene Marie 85 for helping me correct the date of Miss Avocet's loop.**

That girl knows more, I just know it. She can turn into a bird, just like me, and she disappeared into thin air when I showed her what more I can do. Not without dropping a gold pocket watch.

It says _French Railway_ in fancy calligraphy letters on the back. The chain swings against my left leg. I open the clasp, struggling with it for an instant. The watch pops open and a sepia picture flutters out.

In the bottom left, a solemn woman stares at the camera. Another woman sits next to her. There is a gaggle of children around them, but my eyes are riveted on the girl, who looks so sad. I turn it over and on the back of the picture is inscribed in spidery copperplate, _Miss Avocet's loop_.

I gather that one of the two women must be Miss Avocet. What kind of strange thing is a "loop"? Maybe all the children in the picture are like me and that girl. A chilly wind starts blowing, and the picture is whipped out of my hand, cartwheeling on the ground as I chase after it.

And then, in the blink of an eye, the garden is gone and I'm standing on the stoop of a blue-painted Victorian with a walnut door. Tentatively stretching my hand out, I take hold of the bird-headed iron knocker and it thuds onto the door with all the authority of a death knell. My facade of cockiness is gone.

Slowly, the door opens. And the girl with the green eyes is staring at me with shocked eyes. "Who are you? Really?" I say, holding the watch and the picture out to her. She grabs my arm without a word and hauls me up the cold marble stairs, past a pile of wilting greenery, and into a room I assume is hers.

She closes the door as I massage my aching arm. God, she's strong for such a delicate looking girl. "How did you get here?" Her voice is icy, with a slight quaver of anxiety. "I asked first." I say bluntly. She cocks her head to the side like some bird of prey, or a falcon, but as she opens her mouth to answer me a bird flies through the window, or tries to.

A handsome slate grey peregrine with a creamy underbelly slams into the previously open window as the girl shuts the window. It slides down the frosted window to the ground as she shoves me into a small and dingy closet on the left side of her room. I barely have time to protest until I hear a taunting voice.

"Come on Alma. Your leg is perfectly fine..despite what the old cow says. Come on; you know you want to." I hear the self-controlled facade beginning to crack; she gives a little cry of fear. "No." she defiantly says. "Go away, Jack."

A slap reverberates throughout the room, like a whip crack, but she doesn't make a sound. "You think you're better than everyone else, huh? You and all the other Ymbrynes?" That cruel, cold voice is more than I can bear. How can you treat someone else like that? Like they're an animal?

It reminded me of my drunkard father. Opening the closet just a crack, I see an older boy with dark hair kicking the side of the girl whose arms are spread-eagled on the floor.

I take a handful of seeds and gently scatter them on the floor. Slowly the bean plants creep around his ankles and hobble him. The girl, or Alma, notices and turns to the closet, her eyes wide and mouth open. The boy gives a roar of anger, shouting something unintelligible. Byron or something?

He flies out the window, transforming so fast I barely have time to blink.


	4. Chapter 4: Of Feathers and Carrots

She looks embarrassed, a ruby blush on her pale, almost anemic cheeks. I wonder how long he's been doing this to her. I take her hand and lead her to the bed. It creaks as she sits down, a testament to the many people before her. We sit for a moment.

Silence reigns supreme, and it rings in my head like church bells. "I'm Altair Phoenix." I say, extending my hand to her. "Alma Bentham," she says softly, brushing away a curl from her face. It's getting dark now, the light azure sky suffused with a dusky rose. "You..you should go." she says shyly, her face falling a little. I don't think she's made many friends; who would if you had a brother like that?

As I open my mouth to speak, a foghorn-like voice yells, "Alma, come eat dinner!" A loud knock startles the peaceful silence away, and Alma's eyes widen. I notice their blue-jade color and blink. What am I thinking?

"Come in," she calls gaily, no trace of fear or intimidation left in her voice. I leap into the closet. Four feet, three feet..argh, too slow! I transform into a phoenix and fly into the closet while she hastily rips the greenery from the floor and tosses it out the window.

"Alma, come on down. It's your favorite tonight. Beef Wellington, without the pate, summer pudding for dessert and lemon squash for drinks." My mouth waters and I smile a little. They eat good as kings here. Breathing almost inaudibly, I open the door a crack as a red haired husky girl takes Alma's arm and goes downstairs.

As I wait for about a minute, I tiptoe down the stairs and realize I have absolutely no idea where I'm going. And I forgot to give Alma's pocket watch back. Turning into a phoenix, I fly upstairs until I bump into someone. The person turns around and my stomach has immediately turned ice cold.

It's Jack. Alma's brother. I hold my breath for a second, then dart away, heart racing and pocketwatch dangling in my claws. Returning it will have to wait. There is absolutely no way he didn't notice a bird colliding into his head. Turning my head back, I see a peregrine in pursuit.

He's going to overtake me any second now. Swerving to the right and turning sharply, I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder as I zoom past him and his claws rake across my back. Flying faster in a frenzy, I crash into a window.

It shatters, leaving me with glass shards embedded in my body. No time to stop. I dip down lower and fumble the pocketwatch. Just a few inches from the ground, my claw catches the chain of the watch and I'm flying out of the loop and tumble, spread-eagle on the grass.

The back of the pocket watch has little scratches all over it. I turn back into a boy and feel the watch's comforting, heavy weight in my hand. The sun has set now. I trudge back into the dilapidated farmhouse I live in.

I imagine Alma looking up from her dinner as Jack comes down the stairs with glass in his hair. He deserves it.

The next day, I yawn and wake up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and still foggy-eyed, walk into the garden, the frigid cold stinging my bones. My eyes widen, all trace of weariness gone as I survey the destruction around me.

Clumps of dirt are dug up and thrown haphazardly all over, carrots are pulled up and stamped on, revealing the yellow ice-like inside, and some feathers are scattered on the ground. I run over. Picking one up, I grimace as I see a blood clot at the end of it. Wet dew drips down its black and white length.

I'm pretty sure it's a peregrine feather. _Caw!_ I see a peregrine circling in the sky. Looking down on me, it caws again and flies away.

Who could have done this? The answer presents itself all too easily. _Jack._


	5. Chapter 5: Shell of Previously

**Sorry I haven't updated. My house finch died yesterday, November 27, 2016 at 5 years old. :'( May be too gloomy for most. I may not update for a while. This chapter is dedicated to Zebra. Suzume means sparrow. The incident in this chapter is modeled after my friend Mysteryjello, who was "tragically" hit in the face with a soccer ball by a teacher in our school days.**

Jack came down for dinner last night looking distinctly disheveled. Glass shards twinkled in his hair and he glowered through the beef Wellington and the pudding, then stormed out. Miss Avocet said, "My, what's gotten into him?" I suspect Altair had something to do with his state.

Amelia O'Donnell, the one who took me downstairs, snickered under her breath. She hates Jack too, especially after he dive-bombed her with a bucket of walnut shells. Her skin was stained brown for ages after that. Unfortunately, Jack has marvelous hearing, and he glared at her. If he had swords for eyes, she'd be 6 feet under.

After dinner, we gathered by the fireplace and roasted chestnuts. Even Jack came out of sulking and joined in. The Ymbrynes all turned into birds and had a spectacular time trying to crack the nuts with our claws and beak. Suzume, the red bellied house finch, cracked hers first, but sadly (not for me and Amelia) the shell flew into Jack's chest.

It was steaming hot from the fire, and Miss Avocet rushed to put a cold compress on it. She advised him not to turn into a peregrine for the time being. Amelia swooped a victory lap around the house as he silently padded upstairs.

As I stared at the crackling fire, claws firmly clamped on the damask rose embroidered cushion, I imagined I saw a phoenix.

Shaking my head, I flew upstairs. Right into Jack's hands. He pinioned my wings and muzzled me, then plucked out my primaries. A burning, searing pain, akin to a firecracker, filled my body and I shook uncontrollably. He let me drop to the ground in a flurry of feathers.

I let loose a squawk of pain. Crimson red blood drops to the ground. My body becomes cold, and I turned back into a girl. I stare down the staircase and walk into my room. Every step lets loose an arrow of horror as drops of blood splotch the wooden floor. How could he do this?

My body is a veritable garden of aches, inside and out.


	6. Chapter 6: Amelia Gannett

My hair is tangled and matted when I wake up in the morning. The blood has dried, forming tender scabs that throb dully. I take my boar-bristle comb, and almost on autopilot I begin detangling and combing.

Out of the corner of my eye, a blur of orange and red flies straight through my window. My head sharply turns. A rather ruffled Altair stares sheepishly at me. I'm too busy staring in horror at the smoking hole melted in my window. The edges of the hole are smooth, singed coal black. An acrid smell akin to snuffed out birthday candles permeates the air.

I cough and realize his hair is on fire. Grabbing a thick blanket from my bed, I smother him repeatedly with it. When the fire is out, he ruefully runs his hand through what remains of his chestnut hair. Miniscule specks of ash drift to the floor, and he looks so comical I stifle a giggle.

With a sneeze, he disappears. "Altair?" I ask. A puddle of ash drifts down, and a footprint appears. "I'm here." he says. "I..I can't see you. Where are you?" Just then, an enormous sneeze splits the air and he appears in front of me.

The door creaks open. A metallic clink rings in our ears. A small black and white bird darts in, sitting on my bed, and gives a chirp. My heart sinks down to my feet. Amelia appears on my bed. She smiles, and says, "Miss Avocet...WHO IS THAT? Why is he in your room? AND WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR WINDOW?"  
I think my ears are bleeding. My eye is twitching with barely contained fear. What do I tell her? There's nothing to do but tell her the truth. "Amelia..this is Altair. He has..um..multiple peculiarities. The window..er...sort of burned after he flew through it."

Her eyes are practically bugging out of her skull and her mouth is open with no sound. "Amelia? Are you alright?" I ask. "O.o..o..wait a minute...how can he have multiple peculiarities?" she finally managed to get out. "I don't know." I said bluntly.

Now that she had asked that, how could he have the ability to turn into a bird? He can't be a Ymbryne..can he? "Show me, Altair." she commanded, with a hint of Irish brogue sneaking in. He shifted rapidly into a burning phoenix, then back into a boy, making plants twine around my arms, fire burning in his hands, invisibility, and many more.

I wonder if his peculiarity is to be peculiar. Which may not make much sense, but that would explain how he can turn into a bird and grow plants. Amelia's mouth is gaping open and I gently close it.

"O...k…., does Miss Avocet know you have a stranger in your room?"


	7. Chapter 7: Siberia

**My life has been busy lately. Sorry for not updating! Thank you to Gigicomics for favoriting!**  
The red haired Irish girl..no, Amelia, turns into a bird and waddles out the door. Oh great. Alma turns and I say, "Isn't that your friend who brought you down for dinner yesterday?" She nods her head and says, "I've been meaning to talk to you about this, but when did you discover your peculiarity and how did you know I could turn into a bird?"

"To tell you the truth..I.." I'm cut off in mid-sentence. "Open the door." a small and piping voice says. "Wait a minute, Myron." Alma replies, hopping off the bed as it gives a small squeal. She motions for me to dive under the bed.

I cough. Does she ever sweep under here? It's musty and dusty and it makes me cough. "ACHOO..!" my sneeze rings through the room and a suspicious voice says, "Did you hear that? It sounded like it came from under the bed." "Uh...no, it was probably just me. Achoo! See?" her nervous voice infiltrates my flannel hideout.

"Ok.." the little-boy voice says dubiously. Lifting up the cover a little, I can see Alma's coffee leather button-top boots and a pair of scuffed PW Minor shoes. "Anyway...I came here to talk about Jack. He's going to Siberia in a week." the child says. I hear a little intake of breath from Alma as she asks quietly, "Forever?"

I can't hear the whispered answer. If only I could get a little closer...the bed creaks and the mattress bows down against my back. Their hurried conversation is almost inaudible. The only words I hear are "Jack", "Siberia", and "I don't know." Finally, Alma beckons me out.

As she straightens, I see a tear glimmering in her celadon eyes. "Are you OK?" I ask. Her face closes up, and I regret asking such a stupid question. "Jack's..he's going to Siberia." she says haltingly. "Aren't..you.." My voice trails off. How do I put such a delicate topic like that in a sentence? "He's always been cruel..but I never realized how much. He's started a revolution against the Ymbrynes." her face blanches in fear.

"I'm..I'm sorry." I say. She seems lost in thought. I think now is a good time to leave. I lightly touch her on the shoulder. As I open the window, then fly out the loop, I swivel my head back and whisper, "Take care."


	8. Chapter 8: Suzume

**I'm not particularly sure what happens if someone is killed in a loop. Please educate me. :D**

My head spins suddenly after he leaves, and I sit down on the bed. I rub my boots next to each other. How can it be my world comes crashing down over Jack? He's abused me since I was small. But he's my brother. He's family. Isn't he?

Chest heaving, I don't think I know what family is anymore. _Altair,_ my subconscious pipes up. _He's your family._ I'm grasping at straws now. Altair's just a friend. I'll fight my own battles. _Alone,_ my mind says. With a burst of exasperation, I glide downstairs. I feel like a wraith.

How can I be surrounded by people and yet feel so alone? Suddenly, the walls feel like they're closing in on me. Running out to the garden, I encounter Miss Avocet. "Alma," she says severely. "Have you anything to ask me?" she continues.

"N..n..no, ma'am." I dip my head. My eyes are burning. "Are you sure?" she asks. "Yes." I say, without hesitating. "Good," and with a sweep of her powder blue day gown, she walks away. There's a small, secluded maze in the middle of the garden, and luckily, I know how to get to the middle. Traversing the ground padded with moss, I feel at peace.

The roiling pot of emotions has subsided. I turn a corner, then..my stomach drops into my feet. Suzume is on the floor, her wings spread to the sky, primary feathers plucked out and laid on the ground like a fan. Her barred red chest is cut into two flaps. I can see her organs, her heart, her stark white ribs..how can someone so small have so much blood? So much..

A chill runs through me. Next to her dead corpse, a rock has a message scrawled in blood. _**I'll kill you like I did her.**_ I wail, clutching Suzume's frail, frail body in my hands. _I'm sorry..if I had gotten there sooner, I could have saved you._

Turning into a falcon, I fly like never before. I hear a sharp crack as my injured left leg, which is carrying Suzume's...corpse...bends at an unnatural angle. _No more,_ my body groans. Finally, I reach Miss Avocet, still strolling in the garden. "Miss Avocet...Suzume." she imperiously turns her head with annoyance, but her expression soon changes to that of shock.

Tears leak out of her eyes. Silent sobs wrack my body with convulsions. We stand there and cry together.

A week later I stare blankly out my window. Miss Avocet has forbidden anyone to go out. Suzume's tombstone is laden with flowers, a final tribute to her. Her drab gray tombstone has the words, _Suzume Miki. June 13, 1830 to July 15, 1867._ We had just celebrated her birthday a few weeks ago. She would have been 37, but her time in the loop meant she looked all of 15.

I can't sleep at night. Her body haunts my dreams. Large purple bags have developed beneath my eyes. _I need you, Altair. More than anything,_ I say quietly in my mind.


	9. Chapter 9: Jack the Ripper

**Happy New Year! Urgh, I've been trying to solve the monster called Rubik's cube. Haha I've had it for 3 years and only solved the white face!**

I haven't gone to the loop for weeks. Right now, I need to harrow, till, and sow the meager patch of land that is my "field" with some shrunken wheat kernels I got from old Aida, the Italian immigrant in the village. At least it provides some food. Or will.

I pop a handful of kernels into my mouth. They are nutty with a slight hint of earth, and chewy, like the _al dente_ pasta Aida loves. The July heat ripples as I step into the farmhouse for a tumbler of frigid ginger-water, taken from the well and flavored with fresh ginger.

After I am sufficiently hydrated, I step into the loop. I nearly trip on a greyish-dun rock. An impending sense of horror pervades me as I read the inscription on it. _Suzume Miki. June 13, 1830 to July 15, 1867._

Oh no. Who could have killed her? The newspapers outside the loop are plastered with the murders of Jack the Ripper, but I didn't think he was a peculiar! Is he? _What if Alma's next?_ My subconscious says. I run towards her open window; in mid-air I change into a phoenix and careen through the pit onto the bed. "Altair!" Alma says, a shocked expression on her face. "Why is there a tombstone in your garden?" I bluntly say.

Tears run down her eyes, which I now notice are surrounded by purple-black bags. Sobs wrack her body as I put a hand on her shoulder. "It's ok now." I soothe her, but she turns to me and says accusingly, "Is it? Miss Avocet is moving us to a new loop. I'm never going to see you again."

Anguished tears running down her face, she streaks past me out the window into the garden. "Wait!" I cry as stars twinkle. _A great big happy family,_ I think bitterly. Jack the Ripper is out there.

Oh my God. What if Jack is the one who killed Suzume? He's still out there. And Alma's alone..A disturbing montage flashes through my head of Alma bleeding on the ground, her body mutilated, her gravestone, her coffin.

I frantically fly over the gardens over and over, searching for the girl in the navy dress. _Please don't do anything stupid…._ I plead. Suddenly, I see a figure in black advancing towards her. My eyes narrow as I try to focus in on the thing it's holding. The wind is whipping in my eyes as they water in pain. _No, please don't let that be a knife…._ I double my speed and come between them just as the knife comes down.

I hear screaming, but the sticky, warm fluid surrounding me is so calming..who's screaming? My eyes dim and my head lolls back. The pain is red-hot yet chilling at the same time..I weakly raise a wing in front of Alma. It feels like I'm holding up a boulder. Finally, even my wing falls. _Just like an executioner's blade,_ I can't help thinking before I fall asleep.


	10. Chapter 10: Reassurance

**I haven't been writing this for a long time. My apologies.**

I should never have flown off. Altair's unconscious and the masked person is gone. Right after he went unconscious he transformed into a human. The moonlight casts dim shadows over the hollows of Altair's face, so still as if death has already come. Swallowing audibly, I attempt to pick him up but he's too heavy, so I'm forced to drag him. His arm oozes sticky, thick blood as the scrape of his skin on the dusty ground sings a solemn hymn.

If I think about anything I'm going to scream. _Right, left, left, right, straight, left, right._ Finally we make it out; the relief I feel makes me want to sink to my knees. Should I leave him here? What if the man comes back? Dragging him behind a bush, I cover him with leaves. Hopefully it's a sufficient camouflage.

Transforming into a peregrine, I swoop through the doors as fast as I can and navigate my way to Miss Avocet's office. I don't know how she'll react, but she's been trained to care for children. My knees buckle as I quickly metamorphose back and urgently pant, "Miss Avocet I was walking in the maze and suddenly someone in black attacked me. My friend...Altair dove between us and his arm is bleeding. I don't know if he sustained any other injuries but you need to help him!"

In a flash she's flying out the door; I swerve in front of her and lead her to him. "Dear me…the Council of Ymbrynes needs to be notified. First poor Suzume and now this…" she worries. "Come on, help me get him inside."

We laboriously drag him inside, where Amelia rushes downstairs and starts boiling water and tearing sheets. I'm too numb to move; Amelia pulls a chair out and gives me a mug of fragrant tea. I slump to the ground, my back against the stove as Miss Avocet flutters about the table, stained with drops of rapidly congealing blood.

A tense feeling rapidly spreads through the air like a drop of paint in water. "How...exactly did you meet this...Altair?" Miss Avocet suspiciously asks. I stare at my knees as Amelia interjects. "He's a peculiar too."

I shoot a glare at her as she shrugs, her curly red hair bobbing on her shoulders. "It's past midnight. Get some rest; we'll be moving away from here tomorrow." Miss Avocet states. I almost cry out in disbelief, but obediently go up.

I could leave, but Altair will be blamed. I could stay, and never see him again. What can I do? "Yes, Miss Avocet." I comply and go upstairs, flinging myself onto the bed where Altair once hid.

Clenching my hands, I open my suitcase and begin packing. Covering myself with the comforter, I wait until dawn, when I slip downstairs and whisper, "Altair?" A noncommittal groan answers my query as I lean over him. He raises his head up and opens his emerald eyes. Unconsciously he moves his hand over mine. "It'll be OK," he says.


	11. Chapter 11: Farewell

**Don't worry, this is not the end!**

"How do you know that?" I cry. Instead of answering, he moves his face so we're staring, eye to eye. I can smell the sickly-sweet stench of blood, like the ghastliest flower in the world. Without a word, he kisses me. As I stagger back, the ghost of a smile flickers across his face.

His breathing slows as I give a keening whimper. "Love you," he says. I plod towards the staircase and whisper, "I love you too." Each step up is leaden and heavy as I turn my head and see the body on the table. It's gruesome but the table looks like a bier. Fighting back a shudder of fear I crawl into bed.

Nearly an hour later I can still taste the bittersweet blood on my lips. I toss and turn, the blankets mounding up into an approximation of a nest. It's nearly dawn, the first pink streaks suffusing the horizon with a comforting glow. I dart out the window and perch on a tree.

The fuzzy oak leaves are the size of baby squirrels' ears; I bend down and rip one into shreds with my hooked beak. Suddenly I hear the mew of a baby bird. _Peep. Peep._ The sound comes from an oak across the clearing. Alighting down on a branch, I peer into what looks like a bundle of sticks woven into a vaguely nest-like shape. Small and pink, a crow fledgling, crusted with dried goo from its recent emergence, sobs for food. Random patches of black quills poke out everywhere.

Swooping down and severing a mouse's spinal cord, I chew it up and deposit the bloody mess into the beak of the crow. Hungrily snatching it away, its beak clacks as it swallows. Suddenly, I see a hawk circling around in the sky. Gently grasping the fledgling, I make sure not to tear its fragile skin as I dive into my bedroom window.

The cold, fresh air is sharply contrasted by the darkness of the room. I leave it chittering on the bed and take its nest from the tree, which begins to disintegrate. As I deposit the chick into the nest, I fluff my feathers and cover the nest.

Slowly drowsing off, I wake up when it's morning. The crow squirms beneath me as I turn back into a human; taking a hatbox from my closet, I dump the picture-hat inside into the suitcase and place the nest inside.

Carrying it and my suitcase downstairs, I drop off the suitcase at the door. Rushing into the kitchen, I see Altair, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling evenly. Miss Avocet is at the stove, cooking oatmeal. "Now, Alma, after we eat breakfast we'll leave." she bustles around the kitchen and tosses a handful of raisins into the boiling grain.

This is the last day I'll ever be with him. When she goes out to change, I walk over and hug him. His eyes flutter, but remain closed. I put the letter I wrote for him on his chest and go over to stir the oatmeal; I'm just in time, as Miss Avocet returns.

 _Dear Altair,_

 _I'm sorry about all of this. It was my fault that you got injured and I hope you can forgive me. Maybe we'll find each other again one day. I'll never forget you; from protecting me from Jack and giving me my watch back, you've been the best friend I could ever have._

 _Love, Alma_

The rest of the morning is spent in a daze; I'm kept busy helping others pack and tending one of the little Ymbrynes who's tripped and fallen down the staircase. I never do get to see him again.

By the time we leave, I slip back into the kitchen to check on him, but he's gone. The envelope is on the floor and splotched with wet spots. Miss Avocet's voice calls me and I rush through the doorway, only stopping to pick up the empty envelope.

The memory of the kiss comes back to my mind, unbidden. I shake my head and pick up my suitcase, but I can't get his face out of my head.


	12. Chapter 12: Phoenix Rising

**Hello again! I hope all of you are having a lovely day/night and this is the beginning of the end. Fear not, I'm thinking of a sequel and I would love your feedback! Thank you! I'm also working on a new fanfic which I'll probably publish tomorrow if I finish.**

 _September 3, 1943 London_

The boy, Jacob, and Miss Bloom are kissing, a frenzied and unchaste kiss. I perch up on the red buoy and watch them sorrowfully. Maybe if things had turned out differently I'd be down on the ship with _him_.

I still keep the envelope in one of my desk's pigeonholes. When I left the Ymbryne academy at 18, I rapidly acquired new charges: Emma Bloom, Enoch O'Connor, Abe Portman, and Olive Elephanta. We masqueraded in a European circus for a while, then settled on Yorkshire, England, close to where Miss Avocet's previous loop had been. We moved to Cairnholm just a year or two later, when we adopted Claire and Fiona.

Maybe some part of me wanted to see him again. What could I have expected? He would be near eighty now. I shake my head to rid it of the thoughts. A Ymbryne's first and foremost duty is to her children.

The ship sails off as I fly above it, the plume of grey smoke guiding me. A glimpse of fiery red orange zips past the corner of my eye, then blinks into oblivion. I twitch slightly but by the time I turn my head it's gone.

I sigh a falcon sigh. Jack never came back from his Siberia experiment. Well, never came back as he used to be. Hollowgasts, the lot of them. Miss Simian had been a friend of mine at Miss Avocet's home.

Myron disappeared after Jack left. He was the one who had given Jack the ritual that turned him into a Hollow, but Jack broke his legs and now I've lost Abe. One by one I lost the people I cared most for.

I straighten my back and follow the ship into the bright horizon.

 _One month later: Miss Avocet and Miss Peregrine's correspondence_

Dear Alma,

It's lonely here without all the little Ymbrynes. They've gone to Miss Glassbill's for some instruction, and I'm alone in the house. You should come visit one of these days; I know Charlotte was an unfortunate exception, but Jacob, Emma, Enoch, and Olive are certainly more than capable of tending the litte ones. Do you remember that Altair boy? Someone similar to him, with brown hair and green eyes, came to Miss Glassbill, and she says he didn't look a day over twenty, just like you. She offered him sanctuary for the night, but the next morning he was gone. Of course, Altair is likely long-dead, but I thought you'd like to know.

Love, Esmeralda Avocet

Dear Miss Avocet,

It's strange that he came to your attention in such an odd way. Surely one of the Ymbrynes would know about him? If he was about twenty, he should have spent his childhood in one of the loops, otherwise a Hollow would have gotten him. We're settling well onboard the ship, and New York has such lovely sights. I do believe we'll visit it next, after we've left London. Perhaps I'll visit, but for now I couldn't bear to leave the children. After all, as you taught me, a Ymbryne's first duty is to her children.

Sincerely, Alma Peregrine

Wistfully thinking about my days at the Academy, little Claire tugged at my dress and asked me to read her Rapunzel. I lightly ruffle the top of her head, careful not to get my hand too close to her back-mouth. "Of course," I acquiesce as she beams in joy.

I feel a twinge of shame I'm still thinking about Altair. It is nigh impossible to balance love and being a Ymbryne. As I allow myself to be led to Claire's room, I sit down on the bed and wince as it creaks. "Miss Peregrine, did you see the pretty bird that flew by?" she asks innocently.

"What pretty bird?" I reply, playing along. "You know, the bird on fire. Didn't you see it?" she asks with a hint of frustration, her curls bobbing.

A punch in the gut would probably feel better than this. I struggle to hide my surprise as I read Rapunzel, my voice quivering when I reach the part when Rapunzel finds her prince. I'm going soft. I must be disciplined, as I have always done.

I buried my memories of him a long time ago. Didn't I? Claire interrupts by saying softly, "The End." Mind whirling, I walk back to my quarters and have a cup of Earl Grey, then retire early to bed. There's no solace in my dreams, however.

Jack, or _Caul_ , as he prefers to be called now, is taunting us. I'm back in the rusty cage with the other screeching, panicking Ymbrynes, but I stay quiet. His eye still lands on me. Fast as a snake, his hand darts into the cage as it tries to pinion my wings to my sides. My beak closes onto a chunk of his skin, an almost instinctive reaction, as he howls. "You little whore!" He yells, breaking the cacophony.

He squeezes my wings so tight I hear a crack. My breathing is raspy and labored as he smirks. He's got me now I can't escape, please anyone help me please...Disjointed thoughts flutter through my head as I dip my head in deference. Attaching one electrode to each primary, an electric shock makes me caw in surprise.

Miss Avocet is huddled in the corner of the cage, a heap of black and white feathers. She's too old for this sort of thing, but what can we do? I fear I'm going insane; my dreams are filled with twisted, unnatural things. The shocks have faded into a numb sort of tingling.

I wake up with the porthole open and letting cold wind seep into my room, as I get up to close it a small, downy red feather flutters to the floor. My skin is crawling with fear and anticipation...of what?


	13. Chapter 13: Confession

**Should I continue this story? Reviews really do encourage me to keep going and they are scarce. Additionally, I don't feel as inspired as I used to. Give me your feedback; this will play the main role in my decision to finish it or delete the story. Thank you and have fun reading!**

The next day, Bronwyn bounds into my room and excitedly says, "Miss Peregrine, Miss Peregrine! Enoch's demonstrating his new homunculus! He made a clay figurine animated by a bird's heart and he says it works longer than anything he's done before!" She pulls me out of bed and drags me out the door. My arms twinge slightly as she stops at the room Enoch's commandeered for his own.

Jerkily getting to its feet, the figurine scuttles towards Horace, who shrieks and dabs at his suit with his handkerchief. It then turns and sways towards me. It has painstakingly painted bloodshot green eyes, porcelain white skin, and a grimace turned jeer. I try not to flinch as it stares at me, then lumbers towards Olive, who envelops it in a halo of brilliant white flame. Enoch slowly claps as his figurine is fired. "Thanks, Olive," he says, tenderly grabbing her into a hug. Hugh laughs a little, a slow, bitter, wild laugh.

He still misses Fiona. I blame myself for not reaching her in time. Every day when I see Hugh I remember her slow fall, our combined shrieks as her body broke on the rocks. Suddenly, I rush out of the room. Emma follows me into my cabin. "Miss Peregrine? Is something wrong?" she asks, clearly worried. "No. Nothing's wrong." I say, as she prods me again.

"Come on, I know there is." I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding before closing my eyes wearily and saying, "A long time ago, when I attended Miss Avocet's academy for Ymbrynes, I met someone." My voice catches in my throat and I have to clear it. "I didn't know it at the time, but...he.." The word "like" drifts off. It's not appropriate to use that word when we barely knew each other. It doesn't even begin to convey the depth of emotions I had for him.

Gratitude, awe, pain; how can you describe it? I'm at a loss for words until Miss Bloom fills in for me. "Love." She says softly. "No, it wasn't love. He...rescued me from a perilous situation and asked no thanks. One night we had to leave our loop. I never saw him again, and never would have thought I'd see him again. It would have ended there but for this letter from Miss Avocet. Somehow, beyond logic, I want to believe that he's alive. I want to believe...he'll come back."

I didn't realize I'd talked so much. Her face had been pensive when I began, but slowly softened. "If I never saw Jake again I'd feel like that too. But surely..he must be dead?" Her voice is tinged with jealousy as I break into a smile. "To be honest, I don't know." I uncertainly and slowly answer.

"I don't know why I still wish for him sometimes….even after all this time."


	14. Chapter 14: Operation Peregrine Phoenix

**Hi guys! I've been on a vacation so far and haven't had the chance to update. I hope you enjoy and as always, please review! Also, I'm planning for about five more chapters and then this story will end. I will write a sequel but don't know the name yet. Feel free to suggest names in the reviews. Please review and enjoy!**

Emma gave me a brilliant smile and hugs me. "That's like asking if a bird could fly. It's obvious that once he loved you and you did too," she murmurs gently, then walks out of the room. Maybe so but I must get lunch ready. The children would probably like some tomato soup and cheese and bacon sandwiches to dip.

Claire tugs at my navy fishtail skirt; gently prying her hand off of it, I ask, "Claire, do you want to help me cook lunch?" Her cornflower blue eyes widen in excitement as she squeals, "Yes!" With a wide smile, she begins stacking the bread with the cheese, then handing it to me to put beneath the broiler as I fry the bacon. "Miss Peregrine? Where are we going next? And why didn't Emma let me into the parlor?" Claire innocently asks in a hurt tone. "Oh? And what is Emma doing in the parlor?" I ask severely. "I don't know, she invited Jacob, Enoch, Bronwyn, Millard, me, the twins, Hugh, and Horace, but then she kicked me out because I tripped on a table leg and made a lot of noise. She shushed me and then told me to go help you." Pouting, she pops a grape into her mouth from a celadon porcelain bowl on the table. "Claire! Did you wash your hands?" I scold.

"Mmrgh," she protests, nodding. We finish the sandwiches as Claire peels the tomatoes for me. Dicing them into quarters, I simmer them with a bit of water, crushing them with a bit of unneeded garlic clove. "Come on, let's go find out what they're up to." I take Claire by the hand, but she wrenches away and brightly interrupts, "Let's make creme brulee! Please?" If I didn't know better I would have said she was acting; her eyes briefly flick to the parlor as she tugs me into the kitchen.

Meanwhile in the parlor, Emma told everyone about Miss Peregrine's long lost love. Enoch immediately had a jealous glint in his eye as we burst into twittering. "But what should we do?" Olive, always the practical one, asks. "Claire told me a few days ago that she saw a big red bird flying around." Emma states, eyes dancing. "Wait..how exactly does that fit in with this man?" Horace points out.

"When I first came to Cairnholm I was playing hide and seek with Claire and...Fiona when I decided to hide under Miss Peregrine's desk." When everyone stared in astonishment at her she shrugged and continued. "What? I was like, 7! Anyways so I started tugging at her drawers inside and yes, I know I shouldn't have but again, I was 7. You know how the papers inside her drawers stick out?" Again, everyone stared in astonishment before nodding. "So I pulled out an envelope by accident. It was empty and had water-stains on it but I found a tiny red down feather in it and the envelope was addressed to Altair Phoenix." "Wait. Wait. But males can't be Ymbrynes," Enoch points out snubbingly.

"I know that," I say rather snappishly. "But she said **when** she attended Miss Avocet's academy, so he must have been a peculiar." Maybe I'm grasping at straws but Miss Peregrine deserves to be happy. She's given us so much over this last century but she never stops to take care of herself.  
"I agree with Emma," Olive pipes from behind Enoch. The twins nod as Horace and Hugh exchange a glance, then nod assertively. "OK then. So how exactly should we tell that Altair person we need him to...wait, what _do_ we need him to do?" Millard says. "I don't know, I'm thinking...a little romance?" I reply, a smile curving my lips as wide grins break out across everyone's faces. Operation Peregrine Phoenix has begun.


	15. Chapter 15: Nevermore

**I don't know if I should continue. I've only gotten one review since my last chapter; I used to easily be able to get 4-5 each chapter. Maybe it's my fault for not updating frequently, but I can't deny that your reviews spur me on to write faster. Even if it's a criticism, I still want to hear it. That's how I improve as a writer. If you've already reviewed, thank you so much for taking some time to write it.**

I circle around the ship, my wings beating in the rough gale as my thoughts drift away to 76 years ago, Miss Avocet's Home for Peculiar Children.

I wake up and a letter flutters to the floor. I groan, my arm crusted with mats of red-brown scabs. The table digs into my back as I use my uninjured arm, my left, to prop myself up. No one's in the kitchen, the gabled window letting a warm beam of sunlight to highlight the dust motes swirling around. A warm feeling spreads through my chest as I remember last night.

I'll go home and pack my bags immediately. Miss Avocet mightn't be pleased but as a Ymbryne like Alma it's her duty to protect peculiars. I should read the letter first, but I'm floating on clouds. Picking up the letter, I slit it with my fingernail. I get a papercut, but I'm too overjoyed to care.

Suddenly my euphoria evaporates.

 _Dear Altair,_

 _I'm sorry about all of this. It was my fault that you got injured and I hope you can forgive me. Maybe we'll find each other again one day. I'll never forget you; from protecting me from Jack and giving me my watch back, you've been the best friend I could ever have._

 _Love, Alma_

This is a terrible nightmare and when I wake up I will be with Alma again. Won't I? My breath rattles in my chest for the sickening falling feeling. Suddenly the sun seems to dim and the world seems not so kind.

They give me a gift from Heaven and snatch it away. How could that possibly be fair? Edging myself off the table, I run out the back door and soar into the sky, a phoenix once more. They say the phoenix is a symbol of rebirth, rising from its ashes.

I am reminded of a book my dead mother once read to me. _The Raven,_ by Edgar Allen Poe. It is about a man asking if he will ever see his beloved again. Stricken by the paragon, the raven's haunting words come back to me.

Quoth the Raven….. _nevermore._


	16. Chapter 16: An Unexpected Surprise

**Just a few more chapters left! I'm planning for maybe 4-6, and I will most definitely be writing a sequel. This chapter is dedicated to the lovely MadameMorphine for always encouraging me :D After you finish reading, look at the end for a short author's note!**

We crowd around the table, bowing beneath alabaster plates and bowls brimming with savory tomato soup and sandwiches. "Mmf. Rhis ish good Miss Peregrine." Millard says as Claire feeds a soup-moistened sandwich to her backmouth. The smiles on their faces are all I live for.

The rich tomato soup is neatly cut by the sharp bacon flavor. Sun spreads its rays through the porthole as something thumps on the deck. Immediately all sorts of panicked thoughts rush through my head. What if it's a Hollow? I could never forgive myself if it was. Not after Victor.

Enoch springs up from the table, his lanky frame bumping the table. He runs a hand through his mussed black-brown curls, then sprints out the door, leaving it swinging in his wake. Emma exchanges a confused glance with Olive. Leaping into the kitchen, I grab the crossbow always in its tiny cupboard. I jog outside, grateful I wore non-heeled shoes today. When I get to the deck, a bedraggled bird with drab yet strangely fiery feathers stirs on the deck. Enoch is leaning over it in concern.

It's sitting on its trembling talons, goldenrod yellow beak feebly opening and closing. The feathers are fluffed up and its eyes are closed. My heart skips a beat, for reasons I pretend I don't know. My voice betrays me when I authoritatively call, "Jake, Emma, or Olive, can you cook some rice gruel? Make it very watery. The rice should be in the left top cupboard." A muffled acknowledgment travels through the door as I slowly kneel, wincing at the crack my left knee, the one Jack injured more than half a century ago, makes.

Suddenly, the phoenix's beady viridescent eyes open. The black irises draw me almost unconsciously forward, as if there is an invisible magnet. I am half a foot away, and drawing closer every second. Emma suddenly calls, "Miss Peregrine!" from behind me. Startled, I nearly fall flat on my face. "The gruel's ready," she says with a strangely knowledgeable smile. The bird's eyes are dull and near-lifeless. But again I am transported to 76 years ago.

The day we left, after I saw the vacant table, the empty parlor where I had spent so much of my childhood playing in clutter, I clutched the leather handle of my somber black suitcase on the steps of our house. The hatbox holding the fledgling quivers slightly, the only sign of my shaking hand. I've grown up here since I was seven years old.

My heartstrings snap one by one, sending my heart plummeting down, like a dying phoenix. Goodbye, Suzume, Jack, and...Altair.

 **Author's Note: As you can infer, Altair is back! I would like some ideas for the sequel title. Whoever I select will get a chapter dedication and first read of the next new chapter.**


	17. Chapter 17: Fever Pitch

**Only about four to five more chapters to go! I hope all of you have been enjoying the tale of Altair and Alma.**

I miss her so much it hurts. The past few days I've been following this ship, I've paid no heed to my health. It will be my downfall. Despite my resolve, I got caught in a thunderstorm last night. It normally wouldn't have affected me, but I'm growing older. What an odd thought. I fell onto the deck of the ship this morning.

Concerned voices bubble around me, a mist obscuring my senses. A scent of mild lavender and a faintly musty scent embraces me. A shadow kneels over me. _Alma._ It's a dream, it has to be, that's why I'm finally seeing her again. It's all a hallucination, but if it is, I don't ever want to wake up.

Warm mush gets spooned into my beak as the babble stops and I sink deeper into the flaming, fevered depths of my mind. Gentle hands grasp my wings. Her voice quivers as she sternly says, "No. You are not leaving me yet. Not after you've been gone so long." _She doesn't want me to leave her!_ My mind jubilantly rejoices.

But my eyelids are like weights, dragging me into the sea of sleep. Suddenly, the tugging in my chest become persistent and impatient; I let go and turn into my human form. Suddenly, a soft hand strokes my cheek. The fingertips are calloused. Alma.

Alma. The name is a song I can't recall, a hundred memories I don't remember. Alma? Who is that? My vision blurs into fuzzy black as my eyelids finally close the final centimeter. Alma.

As if from very far away I hear wailing and screaming, faint and muffled. I relax completely. Alma.


End file.
